


the aftermath of yesterday

by goshikipa



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Set slightly in the future, Slight Angst?, braiding hair, hair washing bc that’s Tender, idk this might be ooc but i wanted to let yut-lung hurt and be comforted, lapslock, let yut-lung be loved, mentions of yut-lungs past but it’s not graphic, pls just let me love my boys, signs of depression? idk, this was based off of a prompt sent to me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 11:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goshikipa/pseuds/goshikipa
Summary: sing knows what type of day it will be as soon as he rises from sleep, wiping grogginess from his eyes, and turns to see yut lung staring into his own eyes, unseeingly. looking for something, something that sing knows yut lung believes isn’t there.he knows that yut lung doesn’t believe he deserves softness, but sing is helpless but to give him anything else on these days.





	the aftermath of yesterday

sing is used to yut lung’s quiet. he’s used to yut lung’s quiet while he thinks, his quiet as he’s training, and more rarely, his quiet as he’s content. sing knows his different types of quiet. 

he knows this one too. 

this one, the one where he refuses to look into anyone’s eyes but his own in his reflection and has something more than anger running along his shoulders. it’s not exactly defeat, not exactly sadness. unwilling acceptance, maybe. this one where he refuses to touch a blade or gun, and instead tends to pretend to read or stare listlessly out of the windows with eyebrows furrowed to a concerning depth. sing sometimes wonders how far his thumb would sink through the crease if he pressed it there, in the wrinkle of discomfort. 

sing knows what type of day it will be as soon as he rises from sleep, wiping grogginess from his eyes, and turns to see yut lung staring into his own eyes, unseeingly. looking for something, something that sing knows yut lung believes isn’t there. 

sing pulls himself from the bed and joins yut lung in front of the mirror, wrapping his arms slowly around his waist. yut lung will never ask for comfort, and used to push away any softness or warmth. it’s been years, and sing is grateful to be able to press his chest against yut lung’s, to convince himself that he’s here and that he is alive. sing rests his head against yut lungs shoulder, breathes deep, and snakes his hands up his chest to rest against his heart. he feels yut lungs head drop onto his own, and some of the stiffness sags out of his body, like he’d been holding his breath and finally realized he could let go. sing holds him up, holds him steady in his arms. 

years ago, sing could never begin to imagine yut lung openly showing vulnerability, much less letting himself go to sing. he could never imagine him showing his hurt, but now he lets himself hurt when he’s at his lowest. sing knows this, he knows, and it makes his heart pound harder, it makes his stomach drop in the sudden rush of affection and pride. 

he knows that yut lung doesn’t believe he deserves softness, but sing is helpless but to give him anything else on these days. 

sing murmurs into yut lungs skin, as soft as his hair that’s tickling his neck, “do you want to shower?” 

yut lung only nods, rubbing into the crown of sings head. sing holds on for a few moments longer, before pulling away slightly to lead them to the bathroom. he lets one arm fall away from yut lung, and the other trail down to grasp his hand in his own. yut lung laces their fingers with a soft squeeze, and easily follows. 

sing will never take for granted the vulnerability yut lung shows him, letting him undress him and pull him under the spray of the shower. letting him run his hands over his skin and try to wash some weight off of his shoulders. he lets him massage shampoo through his hair, and if he spends more time than necessary running his fingers along his scalp, neither of them mention it. sing works the conditioner that smells like something vaguely honey-like through the length of yut lungs hair before washing himself. when he goes to scrub through his hair, yut lung stops him and pours the soap into his own hands, running it through his hair himself. sing lets his eyes fall closed and rests his hands on yut lungs chest, swirling his thumbs in small slow circles absentmindedly. 

he rinsed his hair when yut lungs hands still on his scalp, slowly run down to his neck and finally pull away, and helps rinse the conditioner from yut lungs. sing places a small kiss to his shoulder as he reaches around him to turn the water off. 

it’s after they’ve dried off and changed, sing leaving small kisses to yut lungs collarbones and jaw as they did so, that sing pulls yut lung onto the ground in front of the chair that sits in the corner of their room. the sun has completely broken over the horizon, and morning light is passing through the windows, and making yut lung’s dark hair shine. 

when yut lung is secure between sing’s legs, sing lifts his hair into his hands and gently begins to comb through his hair with his fingers, not letting any parts snag harshly. when he’s run his fingers through, he picks up the comb hed brought over, and begins at the bottom of yut lungs hair, working his way up gently through the long, still damp locks. 

sing pulls out parts of his hair, small pieces, to braid, later to be plaited into a larger braid. it’s only after he’s finishing the second small braid, humming a soft song under his breath, that yut lung begins to speak. sing almost drops the section of hair he’s holding from shock, but composes himself enough to pay attention to his words. 

“i know that i’m different. that my past is different from everyone else’s, and that it’s made me into who i am.”

sing hums a noise of acknowledgement, encouraging him to continue. yut lung rarely speaks openly and freely to him about his worries and what plagues him on these days, and the air between them feels slightly shaky, but tender. 

“i know that it has made me hard. i’m not sure if anything could have prevented that. i’m not sure if anything could have prevented the numbness that sometimes sits in my chest.”

sing continues to plait the third smaller braid, but is paying more attention to yut lungs words more than his hair. he knows that if he says the wrong words that this will shatter, and yut lung will retreat within himself, so he lets yut lung lead him. 

“i worry some days if i can feel anything at all. i know rage, i know the satisfaction of getting revenge on my brothers. i know the rush of adrenaline from a fight, and i know pain. i’m just not sure if i’ll be able to ever feel something soft, without it slipping through my grasp.” 

yut lung’s voice is so quiet, thin and almost breathy. 

“there are days when i still feel so much rage and hatred towards my brothers that i fear that i’ll never feel anything else.”

sing knows of this rage, but doesn’t say anything. he is letting yut lung lead. 

“but scarier, are the days like today, when i feel nothing at all.”

sing knows of yut lungs past. he knows the facts, the  
heinous acts yut lung’s brothers committed and the monstrous deeds yut lung himself committed. this, though, is completely new. yut lung doesn’t talk of how his past has hurt him, or how its imprint shows itself every day. 

“i don’t like feeling nothing. i would much rather feel anger, or pain. or, if i’m lucky, contentment.”

one day, sing tells himself, yut lung will know what it’s like to be happy for more than fleeting moments, he promises himself. i will show him what being happy is.

“i know i am happy when… when i am with you. you make me happy, you make things easier,” yut lung’s shoulders shiver as sing brushes his hand along his neck, down his shoulders. 

“but there are also days where i can only think about what i have done. what my brothers have done. what others have done. and sometimes, i question if i even deserve happiness.” 

sing knows better than to interfere, to comfort here while yut lung is in this headspace. instead, he gathers all of his hair and begins plaiting all of it straight down his back. 

“sing, i am greedy. you’ve made me greedy. i don’t deserve your softness, but… but i am thankful for it. knowing that you will be there makes these days better. theyre easier, when i have you.”

at this, sing can’t help but smile gently, and duck down to kiss the crown of yut lungs head as he ties off the end of the braid. 

“thank you for letting me be here,” is all sing says. 

yut lung looks up at him, and even if they’re duller than usual, sing can’t help but press a kiss above each eyebrow before sliding down to the floor to hold yut lung from behind. 

just like they started their day, yut lung sags into sing, and just like he always will, sing holds him steady.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this wasn’t really ooc, i wanted to just. set it into the future and have yut-lung open up and let himself be vulnerable you know? anyway, thank you for reading ! come yell at me on twitter, @ hitoshibees (i’m on mobile and cant link it, f in the chat) or if you have prompts or anything you can send something to me on my cc that’s linked on my twitter. big thanks to the cc anon who sent this prompt ily


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